


Notes from the Captain

by nutmeg223



Series: Grimm Behavior [4]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Blutbaden mating rituals, Domestic Discipline, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mild D/s, Multi, Nick and Juliette together are the absolute worst, Political alliances for fun and pleasure, Spanking, Wesen society, courting, possessive monroe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 09:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11780385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg223/pseuds/nutmeg223





	1. Chapter 1

**Monday**

 Nick dropped into his desk chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. He poked at the pile of paperwork the finally closed case had created and came to a decision. He needed coffee. Cop coffee. Living with Monroe had spoiled him on the coffee front, but paperwork called for thick, evil Cop Coffee...the kind that could probably double as paint stripper in a pinch. He wasn't really supposed to drink it, since Monroe swore it would eat a hole through his stomach lining, but Monroe wasn't there and wouldn't ever know.

Provided Nick brushed his teeth before he left. Three times. And maybe took a shower or something.

Anyway, it wasn't a rule, so he felt perfectly entitled to pour himself a cup and thin it with milk until it was drinkable. Mostly.

He sat as his desk again and frowned at the corner of thick, cream-colored paper sticking out from under his keyboard. He scooted it out until he could see most of the front; the Captain's distinctive handwriting spelled out 'Monroe'. Nick huffed out an annoyed breath and shoved the note into his jacket pocket. He turned his attention firmly toward the waiting report.

**Tuesday**

Nick flushed under Hank's glare and readjusted the ice pack balanced on his knee. Like it was his fault that the Maushertz in to make a complaint caught sight of him and panicked. Bolting like that had caused utter pandemonium, and Nick hadn't quite been ready for it. He'd gone down, hard, and then he'd been stepped on. At least it was his left knee so he could still drive. He gave Hank a sour look back and opened a file from the pile on his desk. Another note for Monroe was paper-clipped neatly into the top corner. He closed the file, set it on his desk, and thumped his forehead off it.

He could always get an extra ice pack. And it could join the other note in the glove compartment. Sooner or later, they'd recognize that he wasn't SIX.

**Wednesday**

Nick boosted himself out of the river and, with Hank's help, hauled the perp out, too. He let Hank take care of cuffing and Mirandizing while he emptied out his shoes. He shook out his hair and shivered in the cool air.

"Man, what is it with you and rivers?" Hank asked; he'd sent the perp back with the officers for booking.

Nick gave him a dirty look and wrung out his shirt as best as he could.

"You're welcome to dive in after the next one."

Hank snorted.

"Yeah, no. Captain's gonna go nuts."

At Nick's sceptical look, Hank amended,

"Nuts for him; he'll raise an eyebrow. 

Nick leaned against the truck and laughed.

Back at the station, he pulled his hoodie on, thankful to be warm and dry again. The showers in the locker room were fantastic for warming up, and getting the river off him. He tucked his chilled hands in his pockets and frowned. He knew he hadn't left anything in them, so he tugged out the paper. Yet another note for Monroe. Nick glared at it, wondering what the hell the Captain found so necessary to pass onto his mate. He hadn't read any of them, just shoved them into the glove compartment. He'd have to face it, eventually, but not any time soon if he had his way.

**Thursday**

Nick shifted in his seat rubbed at his drippy nose again. He hated allergies, because it had to be allergies. Grown men did NOT get sick from diving into rivers after criminals, so he obviously wasn't sick. He opened a desk drawer, looking for the cold meds he kept in there in case of allergies, and found another damn note. He growled under his breath and shoved it into his pocket. He tried his other desk drawer and found both the cold meds AND a stack of handkerchiefs, with a note for him on top.

He unfolded the paper and glared at the message:

"For the love of god, stop wiping your nose on your hand."

Sometimes, he hated his Captain.

**Friday**

Nick could be a man about it and admit that his allergies were worse than yesterday. They'd developed into a full-blown ATTACK by the end of the day with nose simultaneously stuffed and dripping, the odd chill racing up his spine, and a pretty nasty cough. But that was totally from the allergy-induced post-nasal drip. He was not sick. Thankfully, though, he had a stack of paperwork and a slow day to keep him busy. It meant he could sit, and drink coffee, and huddle into his hoodie. And jacket. Seriously, was Renard trying to save the city some money by turning the heat down? It was like living with Aunt Marie, only no mysterious disappearances to "Library Conferences" and fewer afghans. He could have used an afghan, on second thought.

Nick sneezed again and just managed to get handkerchief over nose before he had a snot disaster on his hands. He'd had to redo way too many bits of paperwork due to unforeseen sneezing events to have bad reflexes with the handkerchief anymore. He shivered again; at least earlier in the day the lights had been on full, adding to the heat. He should, probably get moving toward home, but Monroe and Juliette would hover and give him the Look.

"Burkhardt!" Renard barked across the bullpen.

Nick just stifled a jump and turned to face his Captain. His very big, very annoyed Captain.

"Yes sir?"

"I thought I told you to go home four hours ago?"

Well, crap. Nick pasted his best innocent look on his face.

"I...umm...paperwork? I wanted to get caught up? 

He sounded way too tentative, and his ass clenched involuntarily. Monroe was probably going to get one of Those Phone Calls tonight. He thought he heard Renard mutter something that sounded a lot like "Oh, for chrissakes" but he was probably hearing things.

"Get over here."

Nick's feet obeyed the order, bringing him over to the older man without any input from his panicking brain. He swallowed hard and winced; his throat felt like sandpaper. Instead of a smack, though, Renard laid a gentle hand across his forehead and winced himself. Without saying anything, he fished in his pocket and came up with a note. Nick watched his hands, trying to concentrate with a brain that felt like pudding and was connecting this and that and coming up with 180 equals green. Renard quickly pinned the note to Nick's jacket and then grabbed his own topcoat.

"I'm taking you home." 

It was the "Don't even think about arguing with me, or so help me I will wallop you where you stand" tone. Renard had very busy tones, and Nick knew better than to argue with that one. He'd tried it, once, and had wound up regretting his defiance very, very much. He did not, however, need a hand on the elbow. He could steer his own self 

"Don't even think about trying to pull away. You're swaying like a drunk on a bender."

Sometimes, Nick wondered if his Captain was maybe a little psychic.

"Burkhardt, your interior voice is exterior." Renard sighed long-sufferingly.

"Sorry, sir." Nick was surprised at how meek he felt at the scold. Usually, he could shrug stuff off.

He was quickly bundled into Renard's SUV, and the older man wasted no time in getting the heat blasting for him.

"Thanks," he whispered. It was more comfortable for his throat.

"Seatbelt."

Nick did as he was told, and quickly. Between the heater running full-blast and the heated seats, he started to melt in a warm puddle of bliss as Renard drove him toward home. He felt his eyes start to slide shut.

"So, Nicholas, were any of my notes to your mate delivered?"

_Evil. Evil. Evil._

Nick turned innocent eyes on Renard. "Sir?"

"Do you know, Nicholas, that I have no problem pulling over and addressing the fact that you're trying to lie to me?"

Nick swallowed, hard, and made a quick decision. "Umm...they're in my glove compartment?"

"I thought as much. When your truck is dropped off tomorrow, what are you going to do?"

They were at a red light, so Nick got the full effect of the Look. It made his brain shut down.

"Uh, drive to work?"

Renard gripped the steering wheel tightly. Nick swore he heard it creak; so, wrong answer then.

"Umm, give them to Monroe because I'm obviously plague-ridden and will not be working tomorrow?" He thought that was the right answer.

"Thank you." Renard's voice was quiet.

Nick screwed up his courage and took a deep breath.

"And I'm sorry. I...it was…" he couldn't quite figure out the words.

"I appreciate the apology. Nick, this isn't...none of this is to make you feel any less. There are ways we do things in this world that you might not understand. Your Monroe comes from a fairly traditional family. It's expected that I would inform him first."

He'd heard it just about every way possible, but it still felt like he should protest, even when he didn't really want to. It felt...safe...sometimes when Renard and Monroe did their thing. Safe wasn't something he'd had a whole lot of since Aunt Marie landed at his kitchen table.

"Yes, sir. I know. I'm just...m'sorry." He sniffled miserably into a handkerchief 

"Thank you." Renard pulled up to the front of Monroe's house. "Can you get yourself in, or do you need help?"

"I'll be okay. Thank you, Captain. I...just...thanks."

"Go on, then. Get that cold to bed. 

"Yes, sir." Nick managed a smile for his Captain as he let himself out of the SUV. He maybe should have asked for a hand up the drive, but then Renard would get his explanation in first...although he and Monroe texted sometimes, so there was that to worry about.

No matter which way he thought about it, he was in trouble up to his ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Before Nick could fit key into lock, the door swung open to reveal a very annoyed Monroe. Nick, key halfway up, stared like a deer caught in the headlights. Juliette swung past on her way out to the kitchen, already halfway into her jacket.   
  
"I'm just going to go see if they have that coconut cream Monroe likes so much. Be back! Later! Much, much later!"  
  
She never liked sticking around when her Nick was in trouble.   
  
Monroe leaned out around Nick to wave to the Captain before collaring his naughty mate and hauling him inside. Nick briefly wondered if he should have asked Renard in for something, possibly a seven course meal? Or the night? Monroe wouldn't...except that he really would.   
  
"Hi Monroe," Nick rasped, looking winsomely up under his eyelashes at the bigger man, surreptitiously trying to free his jacket collar from Monroe's strong grip.   
  
"Do not hi Monroe me, Nicholas."  
  
So that approach was out. Nick found himself quickly divested of jacket and shoes, and what was it with Monroe and stripping him out of outerwear like he had to break a land-speed record?   
  
"I'm sick!" he protested as Monroe hustled him upstairs. He supposed he should have been thankful that he wasn't being stripped and smacked in the living room. Not that that happened, ever.   
  
"Which is your own fault for hanging around in wet clothing out in the cold and damp on, what was it, Wednesday?" Monroe scolded, towing Nick into their bedroom.   
  
"Maybe?" Nick hazarded. "I had to go after a lead!"   
  
Monroe's expression softened fractionally as he sat on the bed and pulled Nick to stand between his knees.   
  
"I understand that, Nick. If you'd just told me on Wednesday what happened, or if you'd given me the note that your Captain passed onto you, we wouldn't be here right now. If you'd handed me any of those notes, we wouldn't be here."  
  
"I didn't...I wasn't...I'm...m'sorry!" Nick finished lamely. "Just...not in here, please!"   
  
"Yes in here." Monroe sounded implacable. "Once we're done, I'm putting you to bed, where you will stay all weekend."  
  
Nick let himself pout. Monroe's idea of bedrest involved actually resting, not watching all the DieHard movies.   
  
"Oh no, my boy. You put that lip away. You withheld again, both about your week and information from the Prince. The Prince, Nicholas." Monroe stripped Nick's jeans right down to his knees and kept on going.   
  
Nick squeaked in alarm when he felt his jeans slipping down to his ankles. He made a quick grab for them, but Monroe swatted his hands away.   
  
"Step out."   
  
When Monroe used that tone, there was only one thing to do. Nick stepped out of his jeans. He couldn't help the second squeak when his mate very neatly pulled him down over one thigh and pulled his boxers down and off. He shivered and sniffled miserably, although all the sudden changes in position had cleared out his sinuses a little. He pillowed his cheek on his arms and waited, wiggling a little as Monroe's hand rested warm against his backside. The Blutbad's other arm pinned him, hand curving around his outside hip. He pushed his toes against the floor, but he wasn't wiggling out of Monroe's hold.   
  
"Ow!" the first smack always took him by surprise, and Monroe wasn't holding back. "Ow! Monroe!"   
  
"No more withholding, Nicholas. Not notes from Renard, not information about your health. Do you understand me?" Monroe landed a flurry of hard smacks, quickly pinking up Nick's pale cheeks. He wanted to get his message across and Nick into bed.   
  
"Ow! I get it! OW!" A particularly stingy smack caught him at the crease of bottom and thigh.   
  
"This isn't the first time we've talked about it, Nick, and if I have to repeat myself again, it'll be with a paddle. Is that clear?" Monroe knew Nick wouldn't need much to tip him over into remorse; he already felt bad about his behavior. With him sick as well, it wouldn't take long.   
  
Nick sniffled back tears as the heat built behind. Monroe really wasn't kidding that he was fed up; Nick could feel it in every smack. Fed up and disappointed. The tears threatened, but Nick bit his lip until the urge to cry lessened. Monroe wouldn't like the little bit of blood that maybe welled up there, either. At that thought, the bigger man tipped him forward and spanked hard where he sat. Nick squealed at the fresh sting and couldn't hold back the tears. He felt awful, with the cold, and his own disappointment in himself. He'd done the "Nothing to see here, everything fine, go about your business" thing again; he hated when he did that.   
  
He let go, then, and sobbed at the sting and burn of the very thorough spanking he was receiving. His feet kicked reflexively against the floor, drumming out his penitence.   
  
"Pleeease, Monroe! Sorry! M'sorry!" he wailed; he couldn't do anything but.   
  
He didn't think Monroe was ever going to stop. It flat-out hurt, had gone from sting to deep and lasting burn, and he didn't want anymore. But it wasn't his decision. Just like it wasn't his decision to make, to keep anything from his mate and Juliette. They'd decided together. The realization hit him, like it always did, and he wilted over Monroe's lap, weeping. A few more searing spanks landed, but then it stopped. Finally.   
  
Monroe rubbed a hand up and down his back, and Nick slowly calmed down. Once he was able, he squirmed around until he straddled Monroe's lap and hid his face against his mate's broad shoulder.   
  
"I try…" he murmured into the familiar, comforting flannel.   
  
"That's what we ask you to do, sweetheart." Monroe kept up the soothing sweep of his hand up and down Nick's back. "You need to talk to us, too, though."   
  
"I know. I'm sorry. M'always sorry." Nick couldn't help the little note of bitterness in his tone. "Ow! Not fair!"  
  
Monroe rubbed the cheek he'd just swatted.   
  
"We don't do that," he reminded gently. "We took care of the issue, and I trust I made my point?"   
  
Nick nodded against his shoulder and sniffled.   
  
"Good, then we need to get you into bed."   
  
Nick pulled back and glared, outraged at the suggestion.   
  
"It's eight o'clock!"   
  
"And you're both sick and being punished. Come on, pajamas, Nicky." Monroe patted the back of Nick's thigh. "Unless you want me to put them on you? I will dress you like a child, Nick."   
  
Nick found himself back on his feet, which was completely not fair. He hadn't gotten his full share of cuddles! He opened his mouth to argue when Monroe held up a hand.   
  
"Unless you want to be up here all alone after I get you into bed, I'd think about what you're about to say."  
  
"You're staying?" Nick asked, taking the handful of tissues Monroe pressed on him.   
  
"You're getting into bed, and then I'm going to bring you some soup and snuggle my sick boy. Unless you want to be in deep disgrace tonight?"   
  
Nick shook his head.   
  
"Good. Now, pajamas."  
  
He possibly broke a land-speed record of his own, getting into his pajamas. But it was worth it, later, when he was full of soup and snuggled in Monroe's lap, drowsing together until Juliette got home. 


	3. Notes from the Captain

 The next morning, Nick woke slowly, surrounded by blissful warmth. He was practically plastered to Monroe's chest, his head tucked under his mate's chin, with Juliette snuggling him possessively from behind. He loved waking up like that, cocooned in safety and warmth, but he really needed to blow his nose. And he thought he'd maybe drooled on Monroe a little, since he'd had to breathe through his mouth.

"Mmm, blow." Monroe held a couple of tissues to his nose.

Nick did as he was told, blushing a little. He still wasn't completely comfortable with how Monroe took care of him. He felt Juliette stir behind him and scrunched up his face, feeling a little guilty for waking her. She poked him in the ribs.

"Knock it off. I've been awake for an hour."

"Should have slept in the guest room," Nick murmured. Both Monroe and Juliette increased their hold on him.

"You," Juliette retorted, poking him again. "Are officially not allowed, Mister. No more sleeping in guest rooms or on sofas when you're sick."

"Yes ma'am." Nick couldn't help the slightly sarcastic note in his voice. He wasn't sure it translated, though, since his m's sounded a little like b's and his voice was all scratchy.

"You even try it, Nicky, and I'll carry you back in here." Monroe threatened, brushing a hand through his hair. "And I don't think you're going to enjoy what happens then."

Nick flushed and then squeaked a little when Monroe patted his still-tender backside.

"I get it. I get it, okay?" he rasped.

"Good." Juliette kissed his ear. "Now, can someone explain why Captain Renard is pinning notes to Nick's jacket?"

Nick felt himself flush and hid his face in Monroe's shoulder. He was in charge; he could explain the weird inner workings of the Wesen world. And maybe Nick's brain could stop saying Vesen Vorld! like some kind of cut-rate Dracula. He was going to slip up at some point and do that in front of someone he shouldn't. Like Renard. Who would probably smirk, but still.

"Nick didn't feel that he needed to pass any of the notes for me that the Captain has been passing to him. Discreetly." Monroe explained, rubbing Nick's back.

"Ooh, Nicky." Juliette rubbed his side a little. "I brought it up and put it on your nightstand."

There was no question to whom she was speaking. Nick shared half the nightstand on Juliette's side of the bed, since his side was the middle.

"Mmm, thanks."

Monroe leaned over Nick to press a kiss to Juliette's lips, and Nick wondered (again) at the lack of jealousy. It felt right, the three of them. He shifted so that he could snuggle up to Monroe when the Blutbad sat up. He felt Juliette sit up, too, but then she started carding her hand through his hair, so any complaints went out the window. He knew Monroe would open the paper neatly, and put on his glasses to read. He listened to the sounds, knowing that Juliette, yes, would lean over him, pressing her legs warm into his back, to read over Monroe's shoulder.

"Monroe?" Juliette sounded a little worried. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Monroe had to stop and clear his throat. "It means that he wants to discuss the Consort process with the three of us."

Nick popped up on his elbow, nearly catching Juliette in the chin. "What?!"

"It's," Monroe's voice broke a little. "It's an...incredible honor. And a good political move. He'd be openly allying himself with a Grimm unlike Ye Grimms of Olde, a very pretty woman, and roughly half the Blutbaden in New England...and a few in Germany 'cause my family...well...lots of kids. So, Grimm, human, Wesen. Hnh."

Nick dropped back onto the mattress, mind whirling.

"I'll invite him to dinner tonight." Monroe decided. "I was going to anyway, so that someone could apologize, but this'll give us a good reason, too."

"To the Batcave?" Juliette asked; their shorthand for 'We really need to start planning dinner like it's a foreign invasion and we're SEALs.' Nick was suddenly kind of happy he'd be in bed all day, dinner party prep was terrifying.

"Mmm, first I'm going out to get the rest of the notes that Mr. Withholding here stuffed in his glove compartment. Then, we plan."

Nick heard Juliette pause in her rummaging through the closet.

"If anyone," she said dangerously, as if she'd just parsed all the permutations of "a very pretty woman". "Mentions child-bearing hips, I will end them with a pickle fork."

Nick snorted and then coughed. Monroe patted his back and bit back a snicker.

"No one will, I promise. This is what you could call and exploratory mission. There will be flowers, and probably juice for the plague-ridden, but no mention of children or hips." Monroe did the Boy Scout thing with his fingers. "What should we have for dinner?"

It was a masterful change of subject, Nick thought drowsily.

"Maybe those risotto cakes?" Juliette suggested, sounding mollified. "We have that red you picked up last week…"

"Oooh," Monroe got up as well, digging through a drawer for a fresh shirt. "Roasted asparagus? And that Tuscan Vegetable tart? With the white beans?"

Nick snuggled back under the covers, content to stay in a bed that still smelled of Monroe and Juliette, and started to doze off. It was nice, sometimes, not having to be in charge. Although, he had a small, niggling worry about exactly what Renard had seen fit to let Monroe know. He'd had a pretty busy week. He decided to worry about that later as he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

Juliette paused in putting on an earring and looked over at the sound of a soft, congested snore. She couldn't help but smile at how innocent Nick looked as he slept. Dressed and ready for the day, she dropped a kiss on his forehead before heading out of the room; there was a dinner party to plan!

Monroe stopped Juliette on her way out for a quick kiss before he turned to his boy. Nick gave a sleepy murmur and turned fully onto his stomach, snuggling his face into Monroe's pillow. Monroe went over to tuck him in, smoothing the blankets up over his back. He had a feeling he and Nick would be discussing the notes from the Captain later, but for now his mate could sleep and heal.


	4. Chapter 4

 Nick wasn't sure how much later it was when he woke to the gentle brush of lips to forehead. His eyes fluttered open, mostly against his will, and he gazed sleepily up at Monroe.

"Good nap?" Monroe sat beside him on the bed and brushed his hair back from his face.

"Mmm." Nick couldn't really manage more than that.

"I need you to wake up for me, Nicky. We need to talk about these." Monroe held up the four notes from earlier in the week 

Nick sighed and considered pulling the covers over his head. Monroe raised an eyebrow at him and cleared his throat. He grumped a little and sat up.

"Good. Come on, Nicky."

Nick didn't have a chance to object before Monroe lifted him out of bed and carried him over to the big easy chair by the window. It was one of those chair-and-a-half things, and was big enough for three as long as Nick curled up in Monroe's lap. Nick rested his head against Monroe's shoulder and played with the buttons on his shirt.

"The precinct coffee I can let slide for now, although you can consider 'Don't drink that sludge' a new rule. Monday, Captain Renard wanted me to make sure you got some sleep, since you looked exhausted. See?"

Monroe held Monday's note out to him and Nick read

" _Monroe -- for heaven's sake put him to bed on time. He's taken to drinking the swill Wu swears is coffee. I'm fairly certain I saw it moving on its own yesterday. And now it looks like he's vibrating. For everyone's sanity, make him sleep. PS Don't worry about Reapers - taking care of the issue_."

"I didn't read any of them." Nick bit his lip. "They weren't mine. I just...I felt like you were treating me like a kid. Like I can't take care of myself."

Monroe snorted.

"We know you can take care of yourself, you just don't. That's why you have me and Juliette and your Captain all riding herd on you. Now, look at Tuesday."

Another note. Nick opened it and read again, squirming a little in embarrassment that he'd let himself get into so much trouble over...this 

" _Monroe -- There was an issue this afternoon with a bolting Maushertz. Honestly, I don't know what the hell is happening these days. It's not like he's terrifying. Check his left knee, he got stepped on in the fracas. We got him iced down, but you're going to want to try some arnica on it_."

"And if I'd known that, Nick, I wouldn't have put you on bathroom and kitchen floor washing on Wednesday night. Why didn't you say anything?" Monroe pulled up the left leg on Nick's flannels and grimaced at the ugly bruising on his knee.

"It was okay...just a little stiff. Honest! I would have said if it hurt!" Nick flashed Monroe the big-eyed look that almost never failed to melt his irritation.

"And Wednesday and Thursday covered you jumping into a freezing river and then getting sick. Nick, honey, he's not trying to inform on you, he's just helping me keep you safe and healthy. Do you get that now?"

Nick nodded against Monroe's shoulder, feeling a little miserable. All he'd had to do was trust Monroe and Renard, and he'd screwed that up again. It wasn't like it was hard to do. He trusted them a lot! He just couldn't get over that last hurdle, apparently. He worried a little at the side of his thumb 

"Do I need to spank you again?" Monroe asked seriously.

Nick pulled back to stare at him, outraged 

"Monroe!" he protested. "You...I...what...Monroe!"

"Nicky, I know how you get when you feel guilty. Either I'm going to spank you now, or I'm going to have to spank you later. We both know that you'll act up until you get a response. If it's later, and Renard is here, I will put you over my knee in front of everyone. Bare."

"Monroe!" Nick protested again.

"Sweetheart, this isn't to make you more miserable. I need to know, though, if you need a spanking now or later, because I can guarantee that you're going to need one." Monroe rubbed Nick's back soothingly, holding him close.

Nick hid his face in Monroe's shoulder.

"Now." He whispered, finally. "I feel...I…"

"Okay, it's okay, honey. We'll take care of it." Monroe shifted Nick to his feet and took his flannels down. He cupped Nick's cheek briefly before pulling him down over his lap.

Nick squirmed a little, hating the position as much as he knew Monroe was right. He was still tender from last night, and he couldn't help but shift a little as Monroe rested his hand on his bottom.

"This will be quick, Nicky." Monroe patted Nick's butt. "This is about you feeling guilty, sweetheart."

The first swat fell. Nick couldn't hold back a squeal as last night's fire reignited. Monroe smacked steadily, not missing any part of his backside. Nick felt so miserable at his lack of trust that it didn't take long for the tears to start trickling down his face. He let himself squeak and wiggle through the hard, measured spanks, not caring how he looked or sounded. He felt Monroe shift him forward to expose his thighs and sit spots, and he let the first sob break loose as Monroe targeted where he sat.

Nick sobbed softly as Monroe handed out a thorough, if abbreviated, paddling. Even with his backside blazing, he felt better. The guilt eased more and more with each smack, until he practically melted over Monroe's lap, pliant and penitent. Monroe stopped and rested his warm palm against Nick's thigh. 

"Better?" he asked.

Nick managed to nod through his tears, and Monroe lifted him up into his lap. Nick burrowed in, soaking up the comfort of Monroe's arms. Monroe tucked him close and rubbed a hand up and down his back. Usually, Nick would have tried to stop the tears immediately; today, he let them come. He hadn't realized how stressed and guilty he'd been over hiding things from Monroe and Juliette until Monroe offered him catharsis. The spanking last night had been about withholding, this one was about his own guilt. Monroe was right, he'd have pushed until his mate was forced to take appropriate action if they'd waited.

Nick didn't even care that he'd kicked his flannels off when Monroe stood, he just wrapped his legs around Monroe's waist and let the Blutbad carry him to the bed. Monroe sat, and then lay back, draping Nick over him. Nick wanted to be as close as possible, tucking himself under Monroe's chin and clinging to him like a limpet. It took longer than usual for the tears to taper off, leaving Nick drained and gritty-eyed. It had been one of the more mild spankings he'd earned himself, but the underlying emotion made it feel so much worse than even the time Monroe had bought a paddle just to deal with him going it alone again (and possibly jumping five stories down into a river, but he wasn't thinking about that).

"Feel better," he croaked.

"That's good." Monroe never stopped rubbing his back, needing the contact as much as Nick.

"M'sorry. I trust you and Renard, I do, it's just…"

"Nicky, sweetheart, we're going against years of conditioning here." Monroe interrupted to soothe. "You're relearning right now, and that's okay. It's hard and it's scary sometimes. We'll get there, we will."

Nick relaxed into the petting and the soothing, feeling immeasurably better than he had since Monday. His ass was on fire, yet again, but his heart was lighter.

"You promise? I'll get there?" Nick murmured.

"I promise. You just need to be patient." Monroe pressed a kiss to the top of Nick's head.

"Not so good at patient." Nick chuffed out a laugh.

"Yeah, well, you'll learn that, too." Monroe chuckled. "Eventually. Maybe."

 


	5. Chapter 5

They lay together for a long while, long enough that Juliette came looking for them. She took one look at Nick's red backside and sighed before she tucked herself in against Monroe and pressed a kiss to Nick's temple.

"Guilty?" she asked; she always knew.

Nick just nodded; he didn't feel much like talking, anyway. Juliette joined Monroe in rubbing his back, and he let himself drift a little, lulled by their hands and Monroe's heartbeat.

"What's the dress code for tonight." Juliette asked quietly. "I noticed you polished the silver, so…"

"A dress? Omi would have said after-five attire." Monroe reached over to play with Juliette's hair a little. "How are you feeling about all this?"

"It's...I...this is weird." She sighed, frustrated. "Not bad weird, just awkward. Even the Trailer of Doom didn't have much to go on, pervy as Nick's ancestors were, so I don't know what I'm doing here."

Monroe snorted a laugh at that.

"The whole process is personal. No two Consort relationships are the same. Like you technically fall into that category for me, but we don't have what could be considered the typical Consort relationship. 

"Because I kick your ass when necessary?" Juliette poked him, smiling. She was getting better with the maelstrom of weird that was Nick's life.

"You're an Alpha; I'm not." Monroe explained easily. "It's all interacting dynamics, and you and Nick both get it instinctively, even if you don't take advantage of it. 

Sometimes, he knew, it was better not to explain too much. Words got in the way of their instincts, threw them off, and Juliette needed to work off instinct and not literature that evening.

"And Renard?" Juliette asked quietly.

Monroe looked over at her just so he could raise an eyebrow.

"You have to ask?"

"Alpha?"

"Yeah, like, the Alpha of Alphas. Uber-dom, right there, totally inhabiting that space." Monroe paused for a minute. "Wear the bracelet tonight?"

Juliette cupped his cheek, brushed her thumb along his cheekbone.

"Of course. It's beautiful, so I'd want to wear it, anyway."

"And Nicky?" Monroe stroked his cheek.

"Mmm?" Nick managed. He felt warm and safe and drifty between them, and he didn't want to come out of that happy cocoon.

"I'm going to put your collar and the cuff on you for tonight. Renard will expect it."

Nick smiled against Monroe's shoulder. "Mmmkay. S'good. 

He loved wearing the mating set Monroe had made for him. Monroe had done all the work himself, as his Opa had taught him to when he was a boy: hand-tooling his family crest into the soft leather, and creating an inset channel that held absolutely beautiful bits of clockwork. His cuff matched, giving him something he could wear more places without drawing too much attention. It was an old tradition, but Monroe liked those, and he'd bent it enough to make a bracelet for Juliette, too. He'd inset an anchor escapement in a burlwood cuff for her. He felt Monroe chuckle at his easy acceptance, but he didn't care. Something occurred to him, though.

"With pajamas?" he asked. He'd been promised a weekend in bed for keeping his cold a secret, and that meant pajamas.

"We'll spring you for the night, but you'll be in something comfortable." Monroe kissed the top of his head.

"Do I have to sit?" Nick asked, aware that he sounded plaintive. His ass ached fiercely after two thorough spankings, and he wasn't sure he could sit without squirming all over the place or coming out of the sweet, soft headspace he was in. He didn't want to do that, especially not in front of his Captain. That lead to him being grouchy, and that almost always lead to consequences.

He really, really didn't want to be swatted and put in a corner to think about how he wanted to behave in front of Renard. Or, god forbid, bared and spanked over Monroe's knee.

"You want the floor pillows?" Juliette asked, sounding a little surprised.

It wasn't something they did often, but Nick sometimes needed to turn off his brain, and he knew tonight would be stressful. Curling up against Monroe or Juliette on one of the big, squishy floor pillows helped. He didn't have to talk much, or think about anything. It meant he looked more like a pampered pet than anything else, but he didn't much care. He'd rather that than overthinking and then letting his mouth get him in trouble.

He wanted to be sweet and soft and taken care of for the evening, show his captain the not-working Nick. The man should get a good idea of what he was getting into, and that Nick wasn't just the maniac who'd climb into a gladiator ring for a friend. And anyway, Nick knew exactly how pretty he looked leaning against Monroe or Juliette's knee, or kneeling next to one of them at the table. And as a further anyway, it would give Juliette and Monroe time to get to know Renard without him in the way.

It was, technically, traditional for the human mate of a Blutbad, although not done much anymore. He liked it, though, and really wanted the reassurance for the evening ahead. At least he wouldn't be naked.

"Mmm, please." He leaned over far enough to kiss Juliette.


	6. Chapter 6

Monroe patted the back of Nick's thigh to get his attention. Juliette giggled into the kiss and broke off to let Nick turn his attention back to Monroe.

"We should finish dinner prep," she reminded.

"I'll get Nick into a bath and meet you in the kitchen?" Monroe leaned over for his own kiss.

"Sounds good. What should we do about dinner for Nick?" Juliette ran her hand down his back.

"I have a couple of ideas. Come on, Nicky, you're going to soak for a while." Monroe shifted Nick to stand as he rolled off the bed.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen," Juliette slipped off the bed after them and started for the stairs.

Nick didn't mind them talking over his head; it was a comforting. He blushed and snickered a little at Juliette catcalling at his lack of pants, but that mostly fell into the comforting column, too. He trailed Monroe down the hall to the bathroom, content to follow quietly. He didn't want to break the soft spell wrapping him in contentment. And anyway, he loved the tub in the big bathroom. He watched as Monroe started the water and dropped some of the peppermint eucalyptus bath salts under the faucet. The sharp scents bloomed in the air and he had to grab for a tissue after his first nose-ful.

"See? It'll help the congestion." Monroe took the tissues off him and whisked his top off. "In."

Nick lowered carefully into the steaming water and settled on one hip. The deep clawfoot tub was long enough for even Monroe to stretch out in, so he fit perfectly. It would have been better with Monroe or Juliette (or and Juliette...it was just big enough for all three if one of them snuggled on top of Monroe), but they were busy. He smiled up at Monroe, aware that he looked a little dopey, but not caring much. Monroe set a stack of handkerchiefs within reach, and turned on the monitor on the counter on his way to the door.

"I'll be up for you in a little bit, Nicky. You soak a little and get those sinuses clearer, okay? 

"Mmm, yes." Nick stretched, loving the scented warmth.

"And don't let Ethel get curious again. They should stay downstairs since we're in the kitchen, but you know how she is."

"Okay. No cats in the bath." Nick rolled onto his stomach so he could peer at Monroe over the rim of the tub. "And I won't fall asleep and I'll call for you if I need anything."

"Good boy." Monroe gave him a fond smile. "I'll be back in a little bit."

Monroe turned on the bathroom sound system, much to Nick's surprise. He'd thought that he would be soaking in quiet...although that was really only if he needed to seriously chill out. The audio book he'd started during his last bath picked up where he left off, and he drifted, near boneless in the warm water. It was nice, he thought, not having anything to do other than what Monroe and Juliette told him to do. He would have a bath, and relax, and be ready for company later. At least his throat felt better and the coughing had mostly stopped. He knew that him being sick pushed all Monroe's nurturing buttons, hard, so he figured he'd just go with the flow.

*****

"Quit fidgeting," Juliette straightened Nick's collar again, pulling so that Monroe's family crest was centered as it should be, and slapped the back of his hand gently.

"I…" Nick's denial died at Juliette's raised eyebrow. "Sorry," he murmured, and leaned a little more heavily against her leg.

"You look very pretty," she leaned down for a quick kiss.

"So do you." Nick grinned and flicked at the hem of her dress.

"You better not be trying for prettier than your girlfriend, or I'll tell the Big Bad." Juliette grinned wickedly at him and brushed a hand through Nick's hair, tilted his chin up a little. "Are you wearing the eyeliner?"

"Yes ma'am," Nick smiled up at her. "No lip gloss, though. Emphasized my red nose too much. Had to skip the shimmer, too."

"Poor baby," she commiserated. "And you don't want to eat it off, either, or get the shimmer all over your handkerchiefs."

"Monroe made me buy the organic vegan one." Nick reminded. "And the eyeliner...although he said I was only allowed to use them if I was staying at home."

Juliette frowned, and Nick hastened to add,

"Only because he doesn't want to share me when I'm that pretty. He doesn't really like you going out looking so pretty, either. He's a little, you know, about that. Proud, but he gets a little growly when people look too much."

Juliette's frown eased a little and Nick breathed a sigh of relief. They really didn't need a discussion about gender norms and the modern Blutbad, mostly because the conversation should have been more about the evils of objectification and possessive behavior. Nick wasn't complaining; he liked Monroe and Juliette objectifying him just fine, and both of them tended toward the possessive. He thought it was kind of hot, actually. A little well-placed eyelash fluttering and he was pretty much guaranteed some hot and heavy action once they got home, no matter which one (or both) he was out with.

Monroe didn't object to Nick wearing makeup, in any case, he just objected to other people getting to share in the pretty. He liked it when Nick and Juliette dressed up a little for dinner at home with him. Nick kept trying to remind Juliette that Monroe wasn't really a modern Blutbad, but a very old fashioned one, and if she really had a problem with anything, then all she had to do was say it because in his mind she was the Alpha female. And he was pretty sure that was a run-on sentence. He tended toward those, especially when he was almost done with a report. Renard sent any report not up to his exacting grammatical and spelling standards back, marked in red pen.

And he'd once made Nick sit there and diagram sentences when it was quiet and he hadn't been exactly subtle with the attitude about grammar.

And he was pretty sure the crack about nuns masquerading as Police Captains hadn't helped. There had been a whispered threat involving a yardstick and Nick's continued ability to sit, which the Union would totally have been all over if Nick had shared that one. Which he hadn't, because he wasn't suicidal and yardsticks were cheap at Home Depot. 

Juliette transmuted her frown into the squinty-look that said she only half believed him; he thought she'd learned that one in a Women's Studies course. He smiled winningly at her, and then sighed.

"Are we going to have to wait much longer? I want to see what you picked!" he played with the ruching on her shoe.

It was a generally good plan to let Juliette pick out what everyone wore, for nice occasions. She had definite ideas about what looked best, and they all tended to look amazing and complementary without being matchy.


	7. Chapter 7

 They'd lapsed into comfortable quiet as they waited for Monroe, but Nick felt itchy in his own skin. Juliette carded her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him. Finally, though, they heard the creak of Monroe's footsteps upstairs, headed for the stairs. Nick looked up from Juliette's shoes when he heard Monroe on the stairs; his mouth went dry, and he'd swear forever that he heard Juliette murmur "Oh, I am that good."

She really was.

She'd chosen clothing to highlight their places in the Pack dynamic: Juliette in a gorgeous sheath and killer heels with her hair up; Nick in loose trousers and collarless shirt, both in a light but warm and nearly sheer wool; and Monroe in an absolutely beautiful vest, shirt, and trousers. Smooth wool flannel in deep brown highlighted the length of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders, and he'd left the collar of the fine, cream-colored shirt undone. Nick noticed the cufflinks that matched his mating set and Juliette's bracelet closing the french cuffs. He looked...powerful. Very lord of the manor.

"Wow. Oh, wow." Monroe breathed as Juliette stood and Nick rolled gracefully to his feet. His eyes went a little red around the edges as he scented the air.

Nick grasped Juliette's wrist and tugged until she followed him across the room. He curled himself around Monroe, letting Juliette take his other side. He shivered happily as Monroe nosed at the mating mark at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and cuddled, breathing in Monroe's scent as Monroe scented Juliette as well.

He grinned as Juliette tipped her head to the side to allow Monroe better access; he always growled a little when she did that.

A sharp, and prompt, knock startled them out of their cuddle. Monroe sent them back toward the sofa before he turned toward the door. Nick settled himself back on his cushion, back straight and hands resting palms upward on his thighs. Juliette sat on the sofa behind him, hooking her fingers into the ring at the back of his collar. Monroe made sure they were settled before he opened the door and ushered Renard into the house. He took the man's coat and got it hung up before turning back to Renard.

"Sir," he offered a short bow. "Welcome to our home. We are honored by your consideration and your presence here this evening."

"I thank you for your hospitality. I am honored that you will consider my offer." Renard replied gravely, eyes drifting over Monroe, and then over to Nick and Juliette.

Nick straightened up a bit, pushing his shoulders back. He kept his eyes down, but swept his tongue over his lower lip. Juliette tugged a little at his collar.

"Don't tease," she scolded quietly. "Unless you really want a smack."

"Yes'm," Nick answered demurely. He felt a little smug despite the reprimand; he'd managed to crack Renard's composure a little.

He didn't so much care for the knowing, indulgent look Renard shared with Monroe.

"Juliette, Nicky?" Monroe held out a hand to them.

Nick rolled to his feet again and offered his arm to Juliette. She accepted it only long enough for assistance off the sofa before she rested her hand on the back of his neck, making his place clear. He let her guide him across the room to Monroe, where Nick slipped down to his knees again and leaned against Monroe.

"My lord, I present my Consort, Juliette, and my Mate, Nicholas." Monroe let his hand play through Nick's hair.

"I am honored by the introduction, and by the trust you have placed in me." Renard answered using the old forms.

"Will you do us the honor of gracing our table tonight, my lord?"

"I would be honored to grace your table this night, my loyal Blutbad."

The formalities taken care of, and awkward silence fell for a moment.

"Thank you for agreeing to discuss this." Renard finally offered.

"It's a good proposal," Monroe answered. "Please, sit. Can I get you something to drink?"

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

The tension in the atmosphere dissipated a little, although the awkward still oozed through the room. Oh, the awkward.

Nick wondered, briefly, if he and Juliette were the only ones who could manage NOT being awkward. He'd learned through policing, and he was pretty sure Juliette was born with the ability to be socially graceful no matter what. Or, early life training. Still thinking, he followed the gentle tug on his collar and stood, following Juliette back to the sofa. When Monroe came back in with appetizers and drinks, he seemed a lot calmer. Nick figured that it was that he could just host, and not have to be all formal and weird. It helped that Renard had dropped what he and Monroe called The Aura. It made Grimms and Wesen super twitchy.

Once Monroe sat down, Nick leaned against his leg and let himself drift. He wasn't needed in the conversation, and hearing the comfortable chatting helped him relax. Feeling Monroe warm and solid next to him and Juliette's fingers scritching through his hair had him practically boneless and purring. Monroe kept handing down bites of marinated vegetables and snooty cheese, keeping his mouth occupied. It helped too, somehow.

"So, Juliette, since you're a veterinarian, could you explain how a ferret winds up in a Sergeant's desk in a police station?" Renard asked, sounding like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Nick gave him a narrow-eyed glare, warning him off. He maybe hadn't explained the inky pawprints all over Mervin's cage.

"Nicky?" Juliette tugged at a lock of his hair.

Nick hastily re-composed his face to innocence. Pure, open innocence. Renard and Monroe both looked amused, at least, so there was that.

"What did we say about giving Mervin field trips?" she tapped his nose.

"We discovered that Wu really doesn't care for ferrets. At all." Renard's tone went dry as the Maghreb. And also NOT HELPFUL.

Nick blinked up at Juliette and smiled sweetly.

"He hitchhiked, I _swear_. And then he loved Wu's desk, and you know how he gets when you interrupt his investigations. And he had _so_ much fun jumping out of desk drawers."

Monroe let his forehead drop into his palm and bit his lip. Juliette poked him, and gave Renard a look when he snorted.

"He didn't like being called a furry knee sock." Nick hastened to explain. "I can't be held responsible for any actions taken by an insulted ferret," he side-eyed Renard. "Probably."

"Is that why his cage is covered in inky pawprints? I noticed it yesterday on my way out." She Looked at Nick.

Nick scooched back against Monroe's leg.

"There may have been an incident. A very, very small one."

"Mmm-hmm." Juliette raised an eyebrow. "You can come clean cages on your next day off."

Nick made a face at that, but nodded.

"Yes, Juliette."

He could feel Renard's gaze on him, knew the older man approved. Thankfully, Renard changed the topic of conversation to opera, and not another of Nick's as of yet undisclosed bits of mischief. Nick cuddled up to Monroe for a bit, enjoying the Blutbad petting his hair and scratching lightly at the base of his neck. When Monroe had to go and get dinner out, Nick shifted over to snuggle up to Juliette. He didn't want to interrupt the flow of her story, the one about getting the St. Bernard out from under the exam table, but he really needed the contact. Thankfully, she just dropped a hand on his shoulder and kept going, moving her fingers up to pet through his hair by the time she finished. Nick decided he really liked listening to them talking, especially since Juliette made Renard chuckle.

They moved into the dining room, and Nick watched for Renard's reaction. The crystal and china and silver all gleamed in the candlelight. The uptick in his eyebrow said it all; they'd managed to impress him. Nick waited by Monroe's chair, and approved of Renard helping Juliette to her seat. Not that she needed it, but it was nice to know he had really good, if a little old-fashioned, manners. Monroe finally bustled into the dining room and sat; Nick slipped to his knees at the same time and his eyes widened. He knelt between Monroe and Renard, which...wow. Which meant Monroe had pretty much made up his mind, since the entire time Monroe's parents had been visiting he'd knelt between Monroe and Juliette, preferably practically under Monroe's chair.

Monroe handed Nick down his first bite, a tiny pillow of puff pastry stuffed with white bean pate and vegetables, and Nick bit back a happy moan. He hadn't minded going vegetarian, since vegetarian tasted so good. After a few bites, and some of the risotto cakes they'd downsized for him, Nick licked Monroe's fingers clean. They'd thought so much of his needs and his comfort...it was still a novel thing, the care both Monroe and Juliette showed for him. Between bites, Nick rested his chin on Monroe's thigh. The Blutbad looked down, smiling at one of Renard's stories from the Police Academy. Nick nuzzled his hand and kissed his palm. Monroe cupped his cheek, eyes soft and affectionate, before handing Nick another bite.

Nick caught sight of Renard watching them, his expression soft and maybe a little longing, before the older man launched into a story Nick had been dreading. He knew it was coming, it always did. Renard had told the damn thing as a testament to the adaptability and ingenuity of the Portland Police before, but really it was the story of a newly minted detective, his kind of evil veteran partner, and a truly made of evil Desk Sergeant. And a taxidermied moose.


	9. Chapter 9

After dinner, when Monroe and Juliette were cleaning up, and Renard had been re-ensconced in the living room, Nick realised that he hadn't been relegated anywhere. He'd followed Monroe into the kitchen on principle, but he had stuff he had to do. And anyway, Monroe and Juliette were mostly bickering amicably about whipped coconut cream placement on dessert plates. He really wasn't needed for that. At all.

"Monroe?"

"Hmm, Nicky?"

"I'm going to go, umm…" He jerked his head toward the living room.

"Good idea, Nicky." Juliette gives him a sweet smile before turning to Monroe. "Monroe, you know you just need to get the piping bag out. Why are we globbing?"

When Monroe doesn't say anything to him, too busy doing Juliette's bidding, Nick realizes he's been dismissed. He's not complaining; he saw the aftermath of the October "That's not how you float an island" discussion. He slipped into the dining room, not wanting to enter the living room from the kitchen hallway and wind up behind Renard, and made his entrance.

"Sir?" he figured Renard had probably heard him, but announcing his presence seemed like a good idea.

"Nick...you're alone?" the Captain doesn't seem unhappy to see him.

"I'm pretty sure Monroe and Juliette think I can hold my own...and that I won't need to." If he'd been a regular, squishable human, he'd have been tucked somewhere safe.

Not that anyone thought Renard would try anything, but it was tradition. Nick, on the other hand, could kick ass if necessary, and trusted the older man.

"I wanted to...umm." It didn't feel right, him standing awkwardly while Renard sat.

Nick crossed the last couple of feet to Renard's chair, and sank to his knees. He noted Renard's surprise and dismissed it. This wasn't Grimm business or Police business or anything like that. This was between them, and kind of between Monroe and Renard, and he'd damn well apologize in a way that made him feel more comfortable.

"I wanted to apologize, sir. I didn't understand what you were doing with the notes, and I'm sorry. I don't like being disrespectful or rude, and that was both." He stared at his hands fisted on his knees.

"Thank you, Nick." Renard reached out and tipped Nick's chin up so he could see the younger man's face. "I accept the apology, and I appreciate it. I forget, sometimes, how much you don't know about the world that got dropped on you."

"I withhold, a lot. It's a thing we're working on." Nick managed a rueful smile.

Renard half-smiled. "It's a thing a lot of us are working on."

And, somehow, that made it better. Nick felt the tension he'd held onto pretty much since getting the first note dissipate.


	10. Chapter 10

Nick had known that the evening would be all kinds of awkward, but it wasn't until he was up and out of his headspace that he really noticed. Sitting on the sofa, bracketed by Monroe and Juliette, with a slice of Monroe's amazing vegan Black Forest cake, he got the full force of the awkward. Monroe and Juliette looked resolutely at their own slices, and Renard sipped his tea with an air of a man going to the gallows. Nick sighed; apparently it was up to him to get some conversation rolling in the right direction.

"Sir?" he caught Renard's attention. "What...what are your aims with the whole Consort thing?"

And yeah, he'd probably just walked all over tradition and Monroe needing to make the first move, but if they waited for that then they'd be geriatric by the time anything got going. He could feel Monroe stiffen a little beside him, but when he looked over there wasn't any censure in Monroe's look, just warmth and fondness.

"Politically, if the three of you accept, I'll be allying myself with one of the older Wesen families, a Grimm growing into his power, and an Alpha human."

The answer sounded rehearsed to Nick.

"Uh huh...and personally?" he pressed.

The older man looked discomfitted.

"Companionship," he answered, finally. "I'd also be able to keep a better eye on what's going on with all of you. Provide you with cover when necessary, give Monroe an Alpha, and give Juliette more support."

"Although," Juliette mused. "I'd be seriously outnumbered."

"Both of them are bigger than me, though." Nick pointed out, thumping Monroe on his back when his tea when down the wrong pipe. "There's the visuals to consider."

"Mmmm, I'd thought about that. It's a point in their favor." Juliette purred, not taking her eyes off Nick.

She could feel Renard's heated gaze on both of them, heard his fork clatter onto his plate. Monroe, thankfully, finally stopped choking on his tea.

"Yes," he answered Renard's unspoken question. "They're always like this. It's a good proposition from you, and one that would provide all interested parties with something of value."

"If the three of you decided to accept, we would engage in a six-month courting period, during which we could get to know one another a little better. At the end of six months, we would iron out a final contract and sign, or decide against it. The shape of the relationship, though, would be up to all involved parties. Once it's signed, there's no going back; it's permanent." Renard figured Monroe would know a little, but Juliette and Nick would do better with more specific information.

"You can't go into this blind, either. We may not know the process, but there's stuff you need to consider, too." Nick protested. "Like, this is my safe space. I need a space where I'm not in charge. I'm not the Grimm here, or a detective. I'm Nick, or Nicky, and Monroe and Juliette have final say in the important decisions. I need a place where I can kneel, where I can submit, without worrying about what anyone thinks. And, I need it to stay here. I mean, you give me orders because you're my captain, and that's fine. Things are going to bleed from one area to another, because I...I get too wrapped up in what I'm doing and do something unnecessarily dangerous, but I mostly need work to be work and home to be home. Can you do that?"

"I'm known for being overprotective of my people, Nick." Renard quirked a half smile. "I can promise, though, that no one will know anything about what happens at home."

"If it's cards on the table time," Juliette cut in to save Nick from his lack of brain to mouth filter; she could see where his thoughts were going. "I like my date to open doors, pull out chairs, and help with my coat, as long as it's not fawning or forced. I like really good conversation and NPR and really awful reality TV. I don't really like penetrative sex, though."

Monroe choked on his tea, again. Nick thumped him on the back, suppressing a snigger. And there went Renard's fork clattering against his plate, again. Like they'd never heard a woman talk frankly about what she liked before? Well, maybe _they_ hadn't.

"I like the cuddling and the snuggling and the foreplay, and then I like to top or watch, depending. You have to be okay with that."

It took a few minutes for Renard's brain to come back online.

"Yes," he knew he sounded choked, but at least he wasn't wheezing. "That's...I can be okay."

"Monroe, do you have anything?" Nick asked innocently.

"You two," Monroe dropped his forehead into his hand. "Are the worst, ever. Seriously. Never, ever take them both out for dinner, because you'll spend half the night trying to fend off footsie and the other half trying not to watch them eat. They get kidnapped, and Nick gets beaten up, and he'll drink the last beer without telling anyone, and Juliette will follow him straight into the most ridiculous, dangerous situations because someone has to watch our backs, and I wouldn't trade one second with them for all the quiet evenings in the world. I need to take care of people. So you need to be okay with me fussing at you because your coat's not warm enough, and you forgot your scarf, and did you eat lunch today. You need to be okay with coming home to us, and dinner, and conversation, and letting me take care of you. I'm very thy people shall by my people, so I will do thing like show up at the station with breakfast for however many need to be fed when you're all running yourselves ragged on a case. Can you be okay with that?"

Nick patted Monroe's leg as he watched Ethel tracking in from the kitchen. She wasn't ever very far from him, and she liked seeing what was going on. He didn't think anyone else had noticed her yet, and she made straight for Renard's chair. Nick bit his lip and rubbed Monroe's back. The Blutbad didn't like pouring out that much at once, and he looked to be trying to melt straight into the sofa. Ethel gathered herself, jumped, and completely overshot the arm of the chair. She tumbled into Renard's lap, righted herself, and climbed up his arm like she'd meant to do that.

"And that," Monroe explained to a wildly surprised Renard. "Is Nick's cat, Ethel. You can tell she's his because of her complete lack of self-preservation instincts."

Ethel licked Renard's ear.

Juliette and Nick tried, and failed, to suppress their giggles at Renard's face.


	11. Chapter 11

Nick poked a little at his keyboard, hoping he looked busy enough to be left alone. Hank had left a couple of hours before, but Nick was busy waiting out most of the other detectives. Renard hadn't left his office in a while, not that Nick could blame him, and Nick was getting worried. The whole damn department was exhausted and done, and it was the worst for Renard. They'd been on the hop for the last three weeks, mostly with smaller crimes, but the pace had been brutal. Add in half the department down with some kind of mutant flu, and you had one hell of a mix. He didn't think anyone left in the department had slept properly for most of the tree weeks. Surreptitiously, Nick pulled out his phone and thumbed through to his texts.

To: Monroe, Juliette

Mind if I bring R home this weekend?

He set the phone on his thigh and waited for a reply. Three months into the courting period, he still liked to check and make sure everyone was on board.

To: Nick, Monroe

Wrkng l8. Mind me do no harm. Snds fine.

From Juliette, that kind of text speak and weird grammar meant she was in the middle of something not so fun. He'd have to remember to ask, and to give her a foot rub.

To: Nick, Juliette

That's fine. I'll have dinner waiting. Be home in an hour, Nick.

He looked around again and sighed in relief at the near-deserted bullpen. He shut down his system and, looking like he was forcing himself, went and knocked on Renard's office door.

"Come in." The perfunctory reply sounded exhausted.

Nick edged into the office, suddenly a little nervous. They'd been eating together at least once a week for the past few months, and most of the time more often than that, and Renard had stayed over before, but orchestrating a weekend to take care of the man wandered onto new territory. He hoped he'd escape unscathed.

"Burkhardt, you should have left hours ago." Renard scolded.

"Yes, sir," the answer came automatically. "Um, I didn't go because I didn't want to do this on work hours...would you come home this weekend? For the whole weekend?"

Renard went still.

"Do you know what you're asking?" he didn't look up from his paperwork.

"Yes sir," Nick bit his lip. "It's been a really awful couple of weeks, sir."

To Hank, he'd described it as a "clusterfuck", but he'd learned the hard way that neither Monroe nor Renard appreciated that kind of language from him, outside of work hours. He just really, really wanted everyone home together.

Renard's grip tightened briefly on the pen he held.

"It has been an awful few weeks," he agreed. "Are you sure?"

"I checked with Monroe and Juliette already," Nick admitted, crossing his arms. "Juliette's working late tonight, and Monroe said to be home in an hour. He's making dinner."

"The whole weekend?"

Caution was great and all, but they'd done overnights and the world hadn't fallen in on itself. No sex of any kind, but that wouldn't happen unless and until they had a signed contract. In any case, Nick knew he wouldn't be up for anything more strenuous than Jeopardy and maybe some of that tea Mutti sent, and he had a strong feeling Renard wouldn't be either.

"I would really, really like everyone in one place this weekend." Nick admitted; he could feel the blush staining his cheeks.

"That's all I needed to know. Go get your jacket." Renard tidied away his files, locking them into one drawer, as Nick stared. "Nicholas, jacket, now."

That got Nick going. He scooted into the bullpen and snagged his jacket from his desk chair, turning to face his Captain as the older man strode out of his office. He'd put on his topcoat already, and he gave Nick a mild Look.

"Your jacket isn't going to help if you hold it."

Flushing again, Nick scrambled into his jacket. He adored having Monroe and Renard in his life, but he hated that some days he seemed to spend on the hop, never quite getting ahead.

"Did you drive in today?" Renard asked, shepherding Nick out of the bullpen and toward the stairs.

"No sir," Nick answered promptly, fidgeting with his zipper. "Hank drove me."

Because he'd maybe been planning this, depending on what happened with the mini crime wave.

"Mm-hmm," Renard couldn't help but rest a guiding hand on Nick's shoulder. If they'd been anywhere not in Portland, it would have been at the small of his back.

As it was, he made sure he opened doors and ushered Nick through. To anyone else, it would look like the Captain ensuring that his youngest detective got out of the building without face-planting on a sofa (or the floor) and sleeping there. Nick looked, quite frankly, awful -- drawn, with purple shadows smudging under his eyes. His fair skin betrayed every sleepless night and early morning. He doubted he looked much better.

"Good, I doubt you're in any shape to be driving anywhere." He steered Nick into the garage and over to his SUV.

"Monroe was worried. Juliette called Hank and told him that I was good for the paperwork, but probably shouldn't be driving anywhere. I tried telling them that it wasn't anything coffee wouldn't fix, but that didn't go over so well?" Nick admitted as Renard bundled him into the passenger seat and buckled him in.

He should, probably, have objected to Renard and Monroe doing stuff like that for him a while ago, but he had a feeling that particular ship had sailed. They liked caring for him (and for Juliette, but in different ways, like shoulder and hand massages after work), making sure he ate properly, and rested enough, and all of that. In any case, if it made them feel better to buckle him in or wash his hair or whatever, then he wasn't arguing. He worried the hem of his jacket a bit as Renard steered them out into traffic and toward home.

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or am I going to have to guess?" Renard asked, finally, looking askance at Nick's worrying fingers.

Nick sighed and stopped trying to fray his jacket to pieces. Monroe constantly tutted over the state of his cuffs.

"I need to ask Monroe for something, and I'm not sure how you're going to feel about it?"

"What do you need, Nick?" Sean's voice went softer, warmer after work hours.

"I need...help...unwinding. I...sometimes I can't come down on my own and if I don't ask I'm just going to wind up getting myself in trouble later, and I don't want that. I really, really don't want that. It sucks." The confession tumbled out, unbidden. Nick stared at his hands fisted in his lap and felt his shoulders hunch up, defensively.

He felt the SUV roll to a stop, tires crunching in the gravel on the shoulder. Sean reached over and turned his head gently, with the merest brush of fingers, before cupping his chin. He brushed his thumb over Nick's cheekbone, soothing, and his eyes, when Nick looked, only held warmth and understanding.

"You need Monroe to spank you?" Sean asked, still gentle.

Nick managed a nod, felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment.

"It's all right, Nick, it's fine. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You need a little help getting your head on straight again, and that's okay."

"I want you there, too." Nick blurted out before he could lose his nerve.

"Then I can be there with both of you. We're about twenty minutes out, yet, with the traffic. Why don't you close your eyes for me, hmm?" Sean soothed.

Nick nodded and obediently closed his eyes, leaning back into the warmth of the heated seat. Renard's SUV was the best. It felt like not even five minutes later when Sean shook him awake, the chill of the evening stinging his cheeks from the open door. He let the older man unbuckle him, help him out and up the drive.

Once safely inside, Nick shed his jacket and shoes before turning to Sean.

"Let me help?" he asked, reaching for the older man's suit coat.

Sean looked a little surprised, but allowed the assistance. He smiled a little as Nick hung his suit coat, then turned back and reached for his tie. He let Nick divest him of tie and cufflinks before he removed his shoes. Nick tidied those away into the closet and handed him slippers to wear; it wasn't worth either of their hides to have to face Monroe over wearing outdoor shoes all over his clean floors. Nick took his hand and led him quickly to the kitchen. They could hear something quiet and big band-y on the stereo, and Monroe swayed to the music as he worked. Rich, aromatic spices filled the air, comforting and tantalizing at the same time.

"Nicky, Sean, sit down before the two of you fall down." It was as close as Monroe ever got to an order with Renard, the fond scolding.

Nick, though, bypassed the kitchen stools entirely and went to claim a hug. He burrowed into Monroe's embrace, tucking his head under Monroe's chin. They stood for a few minutes before Nick murmured,

"Maintenance required."

"You sure, sweetheart?" Monroe pushed him back a little to check.

Nick nodded, eyes wide, and bit at his lip anxiously.

"I thought, maybe, so dinner can simmer a little while I take care of you, hmm?" Monroe kept Nick tucked against him while he lowered the heat under the different pots. "Is Sean okay being here?"

"Please?" Nick forced out.

"Okay, okay." Monroe soothed. "Early bed after dinner, I think, for the two of you. You're exhausted, Nicky, and I'm pretty sure Sean isn't so far behind; he just hides it better. Thank you, sweetheart, for talking to us, this time. We're making some progress, hmm?"

The gentle, one-sided conversation eased the awkwardness of drawing Nick over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair, and sitting. Sean sat on one of the stools at the island, standing watch as Monroe briskly took Nick's pants and boxers down and turned him over one thigh.

"Why are we here, Nicky?" the familiar question helped, and helped remind Nick that he wasn't in any trouble. He patted Nick's bottom gently.

"I need help getting myself untwisted. I'm not in trouble; I just need some help," Nick answered immediately, for once. He'd timed it right, this time; he didn't feel the suicidal need to brat while over Monroe's knee, to make it a punishment instead of a hard reset.

"We're just here to help you blow off some emotion, before it's too much for you; we're staving off trouble, sweetheart."

Monroe didn't wait after that, bringing his hand down in a crisp swat. Sean tamped down on the need to interfere as Monroe's ministrations brought a flush to Nick's backside. He knew there would be many times in the future when he spanked Nick in front of Monroe, or when Monroe needed to paddle their naughty Grimm. It was harder than he thought it would be, though, watching Monroe lay down crisp, stinging smacks, especially since Nick hadn't done anything to _deserve_ a spanking, other than need help working through the welter of exhausted emotions plaguing him. Monroe would help him purge whatever had him so twisted up.

He'd been, necessarily, hands off since they started the courtship process. When he was just Nick's Captain and Prince, he'd had no problem occasionally bending Nick over a hip and swatting him in answer to his bratting or rash decision-making. He wouldn't, though, lay hands on the younger man until his suit had been accepted; it wasn't his place yet, and he didn't want to muddy the waters. It didn't mean he couldn't inform Monroe of any issues that arose, much to Nick's chagrin.

He watched as Monroe made another round of Nick's approaching-red cheeks, and heard the tell-tale hitch in Nick's breathing that foretold tears. Sure enough, as soon as Monroe dipped his hand down to swat the crease of Nick's bottom and thigh, Nick coughed, spluttered, and wept. Monroe laid down an even dozen spanks before he stopped and rubbed the back of Nick's thigh. Soon after, Monroe had a much calmer Nick clinging to him like a limpet. In a practised move, Monroe stood and Nick wrapped his legs around his waist.

"He's going to want both of us," Monroe directed, chivvying Sean in the direction of the living room and the sofa.

Sean wasn't quite sure how he wound up sitting on the sofa with a half-naked Nick clinging to both him and Monroe, but he had a feeling it had something to do with Monroe's uncanny ability to arrange his household to his liking. He gave in to the urge to pet Nick's hair, smiling as the younger man groaned happily and relaxed into the coddling.

Between Monroe rubbing his back and Sean carding a hand gently through his hair, it didn't take long for them to get Nick to fall asleep, hard.

"He'll sleep like the dead until Juliette gets home, and then he'll sleep through the night." Monroe explained, shifting Nick so he laid flat on the sofa and extricating himself from the tangle of limbs. "We could pretty much have a bomb go off in here and he wouldn't so much as mutter."

Sean accepted Monroe's hand off the sofa and stretched, wincing as half his vertebrae cracked.

"Will he be awake enough for dinner?" Sean asked.

"He can eat with Juliette. You need to go shower and change; there's pajamas in the bathroom off the kitchen for you. We'll eat now, and then have something small with Nicky and Juliette."

He hadn't been so easily handled since he'd had a nanny. As Sean headed for the shower, he couldn't say that he minded so much.


End file.
